


Fate's Touch

by Bopie98



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bopie98/pseuds/Bopie98
Summary: A continent plagued by monsters. The Guilds put in place to protect the people. Mystic Forests only traversed by elves that never leave. Corruption and wars between kingdoms. Scattered mages afraid to admit their powers. And a man every society despises trying to survive.





	1. The Steel Shield Guild

A man driven by fear has no control over his destination. A man driven by greed has no control over his actions. But a man driven by the desire to live has no need for a destination. Which is how all of the Fae Touched live. No one knows how the Fae Touched came to be. Some say they are the bastard children bore between the elves and humans. Others say they are elves the mystic forests of the lands rejected and spat out into the world. No matter the true origin of the Fae Touched, one thing remains the same; they are outcasts. Unwelcome in the human kingdoms or the mystic forests of the elves. They tend to keep to themselves, out of sight if they can help it. At least, that was what Askrin usually intended.

He walked into the town of Vencia, his cloak pulled tightly against his chest and his hood far enough to obscure his face. His mount, an stag named Abel, tied hidden just outside the gates. Stags aren't as popular as horses in the human kingdoms, but they're much more agile and better for traversing forest paths and roads less traveled. The town smelled of shit and death and the people didn't look much better. He was here to resupply, maybe do a job or two, and leave. He walked into the local tavern, a sickly looking building, and checked the posting board. The jobs were insignificant; a monster eating crops, a specter plaguing the dreams of the citizens. Nothing worth Askrin's time.

“Sir, are you looking for a job?” a voice to his left asked. He glanced her way without turning his head. She appeared to be young, no more than sixteen. Her green dress was made of simple material, her matching cloak of wool. Her black hair complimented her hazel eyes and was kept tied back. Her face was cleaner than most of the others Askrin had seen, which was curious.

“Go away girl,” Askrain growled.

“If you're looking for a job, I might have one for you.” Askrin sighed heavily and turned to her, making sure to keep his face obscured. 

“And what monster haunts a child?” Askrin asked impatiently.

“It's not a monster that haunts me, but the whole town,” the girl replied.

“If it were haunting the town, it would be on the board.” The girl began to fidget slightly and Askrin knew he was in for a boring tale.

“It was on the board, but the Guild claimed it.”

“If the Guild has claimed it, it's the Guild's problem.” Askrin turned back to the board, hoping this child would take the hint.

“Yes, well, about that,” the girl began, her fidgeting getting worse, “you see, the Guild has a not so honorable business practice.”

“Still waiting for how this applies to me,” Askrin commented in a bored tone.

“I need your help. I can pay you.” Now she had a small portion of Askrin's attention.

“I take half payment up front and the rest when the job is finished. If you need ink and parchment for the contract I happen to keep some handy,” Askrin stated as he turned to the girl once more.

“Oh, well, I can't really pay until the job is done,” the girl admitted.

“Ah, then you have lost my interest. Good day to you”

“Wait!” the girl cried as Askrin began to walk out of the tavern. He did not stop, for he saw no reason to. He wasn't going to bend his rules, even for a child. He learned that lesson the hard way. “Please, if you don't help me I'll die!” Askran turned around sharply, stopping the girl in her tracks.

“And what makes you think I should risk my life for yours?” Askrin hissed. 

“I don't know, chivalry? Male honor? Normal decency?” the girl shot back. Askrin snorted and continued his walk to what could be a local shop. The girl stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. Askrin simply pushed her aside with a gentle shove to the side of her head. He heard her fall to her knees behind him and he sighed deeply, knowing it was a terrible idea to turn around. And a terrible idea it was. She knelt in the middle of the street, the frozen mud seeping into her dress as it warmed with tears in her eyes. Askrin cursed under his breath and walked over, lifting her to her feet.

“Tell me the details of the job and why you need me and then maybe I'll decide to help you. Just stop making a scene.” The girl nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She scanned the street and pulled his arm toward an alleyway between two buildings. He followed, but his other hand occupied the hilt of the dagger on his belt.

“I told you the Guild had an unfavorable business practice. They have made it a policy to accept anyone into the Guild, which for a Guild as famous and popular as the Steel Shield Guild is a really great opportunity. Most people join guilds because they have mouths to feed, they're searching for glory, or just a warm place to sleep at night.”

“That doesn't sound unfavorable,” Askrin cut in, crossing his arms.

“That's not the unfavorable part. You see, the guild takes on jobs and then assigns them to the newer, weaker members with all assumptions that they'll die trying to complete it. That way they can harass the client into doubling or even tripling the price saying it was more dangerous than they were originally told.”

“Let me guess, you're the lamb for slaughter for this job?” Askrin assumed, his eyebrow raised. The girl nodded sadly and appeared to almost be in tears again. “Their scheme is actually quite excellent. Unsavory, naturally, but terribly effective. How did you find out about it? I assume you haven't been properly initiated since, well there's no sense in initiating cannon fodder.”

“During a night of heavy celebration I persuaded one of the senior members to tell me about it.,” the girl replied.

“Persuaded huh? With magic I assume?” The girl looked taken aback and Askrin simply shrugged. “I could smell the magic on you.”

“You can smell magic?” the girl whispered. Askrin cursed. He was revealing too much to this girl.

“Tell me about the job. What monster did the Guild send you to feed?”

“No one has seen it for sure, but it's a large black beast tearing through livestock almost every evening,” the girl explained. “You seem to know I'm a mage, so what does that make you? Are you a mage as well?”

“No. And that's all you need to know,” Askrin replied. The girl crossed her arms and stared at him. “Why don't you simply tell your Guild that you're a mage? Surely they wouldn't want to simply discard such a rare creature.”

“Not a chance. They'd sell me in a heartbeat. Mages only end up in one of three places. A slave to a kingdom's army, a slave in a castle, or an object to be bred like a piece of livestock. Freedom is not an option in any scenario.” The girl wasn't wrong. Mages, even elven ones, were a rare sight. Even rarer for a human one. Some kingdoms prefer to study them to ascertain where their control over magic comes from. Others prefer to turn them into weapons.

“So what kind of magic can you perform? If I decide to help you I want to know what kind of support I can expect.” Askrin asked.

“Magic of the tongue.”

“Ah, siren magic. The magic of subjugation.” Askrin was almost impressed.

“Persuasion,” the girl corrected.

“For now.” The two sat in silence for a few moments, the girl clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “Why not leave the Guild? If the options are to run or die usually running is the preferable option is it not?”

“They'd never let me go. I know their secret. Just help me kill this one monster. Then they will properly initiate me and I won't have to worry about it,” the girl pleaded.

“There's a problem with that logic. If I kill this creature for you, you will have to take all the credit. Admitting you had help will spill the secret that you know about their underhanded business dealings and that you probably shared them with a total stranger. So if you take credit and they do initiate you then they will assume you are capable of taking on their jobs, thus expecting you to succeed. Now, if that's the case you would need my help for any other job they send you on and since I'm a traveler of sorts I will not be around to actually assist you. So unless you can convince me to stay in a long term contract with you, which I can assure you now isn't going to happen, then you're just going to die on the next job.” The girl seemed to ponder his words and Askrin was once again becoming increasingly bored.

“If they properly initiate me I can reveal to them I'm a mage. Once a Guild member always a Guild member. They couldn't sell me after that. After that they wouldn't dare send me on any job too dangerous,” the girl said with confidence. Askrin may hate the Guilds, but he had to admire their sense of camaraderie. “Please, just this one monster. If you kill it with me I'll give you the whole reward. Fifteen hundred scils.”

“Is that before or after the Guild's cut?” Askrin asked.

“After.” Askrin sighed and held out his gloved hand. The girl smiled and grasped it, shaking slightly. “You can call me Masa.”

“Well Masa, it appears we have an agreement. But if I ever catch you using your magic on me, you may find my sword in your belly,” Askrin warned. 

“I understand. Now that we're going to be partners, isn't it time you showed me what you were?” Masa asked.

“Not here. Once we reach the outskirts of the town.”

“Do I at least get a name to call you?” she pressed.

“Askrin,” he replied reluctantly. “Now show me were this monster appears.” Masa nodded and walked out of the alleyway. Askrin followed wondering how he always gets roped into these sort of situations. He took note of landmarks as they walked, though there wasn't much of a point. The town wasn't that large. He did notice what appeared to be a blacksmith though, which was rare for such a small town. Perhaps after the job was through he could get his leathers patched up. 

“Ah Masa! What brings you to this side of town?” a large man pitching hay asked as the two of them approached.

“A job for the Guild. Would you mind if we waited for nightfall in your stable?” Masa asked with a cheerful tone.

“Of course. Need the missus to bring you two anything?” he asked.

“No, we'll be in the loft. Thank you though.” The man grunted and returned to his work. Masa led Askrin into the stable and up a ladder to the loft above the horses. The area was simple, holding a few stored items such as tools used for the farm in the summer months along with some blankets. Masa closed the hatch behind Askrin who could barely stand without hitting his head on the ceiling. “No one will bother us up here. Now show me what you are.” Askrin glared at Masa's directness, but at the same time understood it. He sighed again, a habit he wasn't pleased about developing, and removed the hood of his cloak.

His eyes were probably the first thing Masa noticed. They always were. They were liquid silver, his hair black as the night sky. His skin seemed unnaturally smooth save for a scar across his fore head and another jagged one on his left jawline. His ears had a subtle point to them, nothing so drastic as the elves, but not completely round like a human's. Not all Fae Touched looked the same as some stories suggest, but there was no mistaking one on sight. Masa gasped slightly and covered her mouth. Askrin hoped it would scare her into dissolving their agreement and he could be on his way.

“So that's why you wore the cloak so tightly. The Fae Touched are only welcomed when a monster is too strong for a guild,” Masa said quietly. Askrin snorted.

“That's not entirely true. We're usually only given jobs the client believes would surely kill us. Then they talk to a guild,” Askrin explained, but there was no bitterness in his voice. He had accepted that this was how the world worked a long time ago.

“Why not try to join a guild? Once a member, always a member,” Masa suggested.

“No guild would allow one of my kind into their ranks. Fae Touched are believed to be bad luck and spell disaster for anyone who gets involved with one. It's better to continue the way I have been.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“Survival is my main goal. Companionship isn't high on my list of necessities,” Askrin answered.

“So which stories are true? Are you the son of an elf and a human? Were you created by one of the mystic forests? Can you control magic like a mage? Is it true you can't die?” Askrin narrowed his eyes toward Masa and remained silent. “Oh come on! When will there ever be another opportunity for me to find out about your kind?”

“Never. Because it's not information any of us are willing to share,” Askrin snapped. “There's no incentive for us to divulge our secrets to beings that despise us.”

“Do you convene with other Fae Touched then?” Masa asked, her eyes full of unrelenting determination.

“No. I can only speak for myself, but I'm not looking to make friends. The more of us in one area the larger the target on our backs. Now if we are to slay a beast after nightfall I suggest sleeping before then.” Masa began to speak, but Askrin just found a comfortable spot on the floor and closed his eyes. He tuned out Masa's drivel until she finally decided to give up and get some sleep.

Askrin's slumber was light, his awareness not yet muted. He could hear the shuffling of the horses in their stalls and the subtle creak of the floor as Masa shifted positions occasionally. When he felt the gentle caress of magic in his mind, his blade was in his hand before he fully understood what was happening. He heard Masa gasp in agony, felt her warm blood stream over his hand and onto the floor.

“I told you if you attempted to use your magic on me you'd find my blade in your belly,” Askrin growled. He removed his dagger and Masa hastily covered her wound with both hands. She coughed, the agony wracking her body with every breath.

“How did you know?” she asked with a wheeze.

“Know what? That you were attempting to use your sorcery on me or that this whole charade was designed to mask your true intention to kill me?” Askrin replied lazily. Masa's eyes widened and she was, for once, left speechless. “You don't live as long as I have by being a fool. It was far too convenient for you to ask for my help the moment I came to town. You didn't know me, didn't know my capabilities, so why ask specifically for my help? Because I was looking at the posting board? You barely waited even a moment before jumping on my back for me to help you. Secondly the Guild wouldn't take such a vague job without more information on the target. Those jobs are for desperate travelers. As for knowing the moment you used your magic, let's just call that primal intuition.”

“If you knew, then why did you agree to help?” Masa asked, her breathing labored.

“Because you were annoying. And because of the very unlikely chance you were telling the truth. Now how did you know who I was before I arrived?”

“The Guild caught wind of a Fae Touched traveling on a Stag headed in our direction. It wasn't hard to figure out that it was you after you arrived. And people will pay good money for pieces of your kind,” Masa spat. “You may have some human features, but your no better than the monsters you hunt. So just-” Askrin cut off her statement with a swift slash of his dagger across her throat. She fell to the ground, attempting to stifle the bleeding of both wounds to no avail. He watched as the light of life left her eyes without pity or remorse.

“I might have let you live if you hadn't attempted to use your magic on me again,” he murmured to the corpse. He wiped the blade of his dagger on her cloak and slung her body over his shoulder, ignoring the feeling of what remained of her blood soaking into his cloak. He carefully climbed down the ladder and walked out, no longer attempting to hide his face of his intentions. He vaguely heard a woman scream as he passed the main house, but his stride did not waver. The sun was probably just past the horizon as a faint glow of red still clung to the sky.

He strode through the town, not bothering to look around. He heard some doors slam with fearful shrieks, others kicked open with angry cries. He ignored all of them. He made his way to the Guild Hall and kicked open the door and barred it shut before throwing the corpse on the floor. The hall was larger than the front of the building let on, housing about fifteen or so men and women in the common area. Whatever conversations they may have been having came to a screeching halt the moment Askrin walked in. A robust man in green robes sauntered up from a room near the back of the common area, the leg of some sort of an animal still in his hand. His hairline was receding and Askrin wished he could say the same about the dead weasel on his upper lip.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Askrin took a casual stance, but his palm remained on the hilt of his dagger.

“I told her not to take you on by herself, but you know how children can be. So eager to please,” the man stated. 

“Does the death of this child not bother you?” Askrin asked, genuinely surprised. From what he had seen of guilds in other towns, they always seemed to share a deep bond with each other. The fat man pondered for a moment and ripped into the meat with his teeth.

“Not especially. She was a useful tool in the Guild, but she was more of a liability than anything else. Keeping a mage from the King is dangerous as it is and she was not shy about letting others know,” the man explained, bits of meat flying out from his mouth. “But I do suppose she did do something useful during her short term her; she brought you right into the hall.” Askrin watched as the other members stood from their seats, abandoning their plates and picking up their weapons. “I've heard stories of the elixirs alchemists can make from a Fae Touched's eyes and blood. I can't wait to find out what exactly those elixirs do.”

“I'm not interested in allowing the likes of you to make a elixir out of any part of me,” Askrin answered before delivering his dagger into the Guild Master's forehead. The guild members swarmed Askrin, their weapons at the ready. They all were clumsy, having become complacent doing easy jobs for inflated prices. Askrin could only roll his eyes. He was unarmed and it would be a miracle if any of these imbeciles could land a single strike against him. With his quick reflexes and strong fists he was able to relieve one of the members of his sword. He winced as the iron in the hilt Touched his wrist, but it wasn't a fair fight. He would've needed to tie one arm behind his back and find ten more members.

The fight lasted less time than it takes to take a piss. Askrin tossed the bloodied sword to the side and retrieved his dagger. After all, steel was more expensive than iron. He wiped the blood off on the Guild Master's robe and sheathed it. He walked over to one of the cooked birds and ripped off a leg, grabbing one of the lanterns hanging on a pillar. He shoved as much as he could into his bag in terms of food, but unfortunately it was mostly meat that would spoil quickly. Askrin just shook his head. These pigs were just a corrupt as the pigs sitting on the thrones of the kingdoms. He took a bite of the bird leg and smashed the lantern onto the floor. The flames quickly licked up the wooden pillars and began consuming the entire hall. Once Askrin was satisfied the flames wouldn't die down he walked out of the hall.

Outside the town's folk had gathered, mostly men with pitchforks and sad excuses for swords. Askrin didn't bother to acknowledge them. He simply glared in their direction and headed out of the town, the crowd parting for him out of fear. After all, no peasant in a town is going to fight a man that just murdered an entire guild hall full of monster hunters. He finished the meat in his hand, tossing the bone to the side. He pulled up the hood of his cloak and disappeared out of sight.


	2. Askrin Meets an Exorcist

Askrin strode into the town of Straden, his shield strapped to his back and his short sword hanging from his belt. He did not wish to obscure his identity as this town was full of men willing to hire him for the more sensitive jobs. Most of the folk in this town were well off with plenty of demons in their closets. As Askrin walked men and women turned away from him, mothers shielding their children from staring. He was not bothered by it. In truth he didn't mind the lack of attention. He walked into the town's only tavern, a modest building called The Woman's Touch. The barkeep, a burly man named Samuel, looked up from his tap to observe the new patron.

“Ah, Askrin. There have been some unsavory rumors flying around the kingdom about you as of late,” Samuel commented, placing a pint of ale on the counter as Askrin approached.

“I am no stranger to unsavory rumors. What are the common folk saying this time?” Askrin asked as he grasped the handle.

“That you're slaughtering whole guilds that cross you.” Askrin simply rolled his eyes and took a long drink.

“It was one guild. And they weren't the most honorable of characters,” Askrin explained.

“Still, for people like you these things tend to get exaggerated,” Samuel shrugged. Askrin sighed and took another swig of his ale.

“Anyone leave a job for me?” Since Askrin frequently stopped by the town, the repeat clients left their requests with Samuel personally instead of posting them on the board. It was as close to 'home' as Askrin could manage.

“I've got one, but you're not going to like it.”

“Lay it on me.”

“It's a spectre.” Askrin cursed less than under his breath.

“When will these fools remember I don't do ghosts?”

“Lucky for you, I do.” The two men turned and watched as a woman stood from one of the small tables, pushing the hood of her cloak down. To any man she would be considered beautiful. Her hair was golden with soft curls, the hair closest to her face pulled back. Her eyes were a stunning shade of green, complemented by her blue velvet cloak. Her delicate hands were clad in black leather and although most of her attire was covered by the cloak, Askrin could guess what it looked like. Custom leathers adorned with blessed silver studs and a belt over cluttered with holy water, a normal dagger, a sword made entirely of salt, a blessed silver emblem of Dynestra, the goddess of life and light, and probably some other personal bobbles. 

“And what is an exorcist doing in a town such as this?” Askrin asked as he casually leaned against the counter.

“No matter how many people try to hide it, news of a spectre in town travels,” she replied calmly. “I was simply waiting for the job to be posted or requested of me.”

“The contract is in Askrin's name, so you can't claim the reward unless he bequeaths to you miss...?”

“Sylphia. Sylphia Givalt.” Askrin shrugged and finished off his pint.

“She can have it. I don't do ghosts,” Askrin said lazily. Since there were no decent jobs in town this time around his plan was to head out as soon as possible. His funds were running low and he wasn't about to waste his time finding some nobleman's damn dog.

“Oh no, I couldn't possibly take a gentleman's request from him! It would be unbecoming of me! I know, how about I assist you in your task? We'll split it evenly between the two of us,” Sylphia suggested in a chipper tone Askrin didn't believe was sincere. 

“And why would I go on a ghost hunt when I'm not equipped to handle a ghost?” Askrin asked.

“Consider it a bodyguard job then. Ghosts are easy for me to defend myself against. Ghosts possessing a vessel? Not so much,” Sylphia admitted confidently. There was no shame in her request, but he still didn't want to do it.

“And why me?” Askrin asked.

“Because the contract is already in your name. For you to bequeath the contract to me we'd need to get the client involved and make a whole new contract, one of which he might lower the reward because he doesn't know me personally. It's just easier for you to earn your share, collect the reward, and pay me after.” Her logic was sound and Askrin sighed. It was a hassle to move the contract. And it would sully the reputation he had built for himself with the clients of this town.

“What are the details of the job?” Askrin asked, turning back to Samuel. Samuel raised his eyebrow, but didn't comment. 

“The spectre appeared about two weeks ago. The client, Lord Avon, swears he has no idea who they were in life, but it's terrorizing the Lord's manor. Lord Avon wants it gone and fast before it seriously hurts someone,” Samuel explained. Askrin shook his head slightly. The Lord obviously knows who it is, but it's another secret he needs buried. Sylphia put her finger to her chin as if she were pondering something and Askrin rolled his eyes. Samuel pulled out a piece of parchment and a sack of coin. Askrin read over the contract mostly out of formality. The clients in the town all knew how to properly deal with him. He picked up the sack and weighed it with his hand slightly before putting it in his coin pouch.

“Aren't we splitting the coin?” Sylphia asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Yes. And you will get your half after the job is finished,” Askrin answered with indifference.

“But that's not fair!” Sylphia protested.

“Neither is dragging me into this. Shall we?” Askrin threw three scils on the counter and walked out of the tavern. Sylphia followed without a word, but a glare in her eye. Askrin smirked and began walking. “Lord Avon's manor is at the edge of the town. If we could finish this quickly and without entering the manor that would be ideal.”

“Why would it matter if we complete the task inside or outside?” Sylphia asked.

“Lord Avon isn't a fan when I enter his home. And his staff don't care for my presence either,” Askrin answered.

“I never understood the animosity toward the Fae Touched. It's not like they're much different from the rest of us,” Sylphia commented. Askrin chuckled lightly and she gave him a curious look.

“There are many differences between my kind and yours. Most notably I don't bleed red like the rest of you.”

“Eyes and blood don't make a person. What makes your kind so monstrous?” Sylphia asked.

“There are many stories. Feel free to ask anyone and they'll tell you,” Askrin replied. He glanced at Sylphia out of the corner of his eye and smirked at her frustrated expression.

“I don't see the purpose of the secrecy. If you were all more open about yourselves maybe people would understand you better,” Sylphia spat.

“Or they would use the information to kill us quicker. Secrets are essential to survival. Our strengths would be countered, our weaknesses exploited.” Askrin's tone was no longer playful, but grimly serious. Sylphia remained silent for a few moments before sighing heavily.

“Why not stay in the mystic forests where you were born?” Sylphia asked.

“The elves hate us more than humans. Fae Touched are to be executed on sight in the mystic forests. And no, I will not be explaining how the childhood of the Fae Touched works. Stop trying to pry, it's not going to work,” Askrin snapped.

“Fine. I won't pry about your past or abilities,” Sylphia stated, though Askrin could hear the “but” at the end of her sentence and wasn't especially excited. “What about something about you specifically? Does Askrin, The Guild Slayer, have anyone to keep his bed warm at night?”

“It was one guild,” Askrin hissed, unenthused about his new nickname. “And no. I have no need for such company.”

“Oh my, how intriguing! The fierce warrior is free to be seduced!” Sylphia said with more enthusiasm than possibly necessary. Askrin rolled his eyes and continued forward without a word. The rest of the walk was short, reaching the manor within without incident.

“The contract mentioned the spectre enters the manor from the north, so we should probably find it's origin,” Askrin suggested. Most spectres rise with the moon from their place of death and seek out their target.

“So the warrior knows spectre lore even though he doesn't hunt them? Very interesting,” Sylphia commented. Askrin snorted and began walking into the thicket.

“The easiest way to avoid a troublesome enemy is to learn how they function,” Askrin explained. Sylphia sighed, gathering Askrin wasn't one for extended conversation. She watched as he armed himself with his short sword and shield, looking at the weaponry curiously.

“You use steel? For someone of your profession I assumed you would use iron as it's cheaper to replace if it gets damaged or lost,” Sylphia asked.

“Steel is stronger than iron which means it is less likely to get damaged. If I maintain my weapons correctly, which I do, it means less time at the blacksmiths in towns full of people that despise me,” Askrin replied.

“I suppose that is understandable. It must have cost a small fortune for that sword and shield.”

“And the dagger, as well as the silver dagger I carry with me, yes. But now that it's all paid for it doesn't matter. I suppose you wouldn't know as your equipment was provided to you by The Calling.” Sylphia clicked her tongue disapprovingly and Astrin raised his brow. “Not a fan of your own order?”

“It's not my favorite place to be. They prepare us to defend ourselves against spectres but not bandits or monsters. A dagger only offers so much protection,” Sylphia replied bitterly.

“Hence my presence here,” Askrin observed. 

“Indeed.” Askrin stopped moving when a small hut came into view. It wasn't particularly well made; the wood appearing to be scraps from other buildings in the town. Even several feet away Askrin could smell the scent of death and decay.

“The body is still in there,” Askrin stated. Sylphia wrinkled her nose and appeared to mumble a few words of prayer. Askrin walked slowly toward the hut, his sword and shield at the ready. As he approached he gently pushed the door open with his sword hand, his senses immediately overwhelmed with the stench. He coughed slightly and heard Sylphia retch behind him. Flies and other vermin swarmed a heap on a makeshift bed. “Do your rituals exorcist. I'll take care of the body.” Askrin sheathed his sword and stowed his shield on his back, batting flies as he entered the hut. He carefully wrapped the woman's body in the blanket underneath her, showing the greatest respect.

Askrin ignored Sylphia, uninterested in the circle she was drawing on the ground. He didn't have a shovel to bury the body, so he made a quick pyre out of sticks and dried leaves. It was the beginning of the cold season so everything was still dry. He lit the pyre and watched as what was left of the woman burn, softly wishing she find peace in Dynestra's Garden. Sylphia stepped beside Askrin, taking a moment to watch the pyre.

“Tell me Askrin, do you believe in Dynestra?” Sylphia asked softly.

“Whether I believe in her or not is irrelevant. If this woman believed, as most humans do, then it's only right to honor her beliefs,” Askrin answered. 

“Woman?” Askrin nodded and watched as the pyre became nothing but dull embers. “The circle is finished. Once the spectre exits the hut at sundown it will be trapped.”

“And then you'll destroy it?” Askrin inquired.

“Not exactly. When we strike down a spectre, we cut its ties to our plane so the soul can return to Dynestra's Garden. All spectres are bound to our plane by something, whether it's revenge or a desire to complete a task it didn't finish in life,” Sylphia explained.

“So you force them to move on?”

“They can't move on on their own. They forget themselves and their original tasks quickly. They start terrorizing everyone, attempting to remember who it is they are and why they remained. It's much more merciful this way.” Askrin shrugged and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. Sundown was about an hour away which was more time than he wanted to have to entertain a nosy exorcist. “So Askrin, Fae Touched sounds like such a human term. Tell me, what do you call your kind?”

“Elathaen,” Askrin replied quietly.

“It's a beautiful name,” Sylphia commented.

“That's why no one will ever call me that. No one will call a monster something that rolls off the tongue so smoothly. I've also never felt the compulsion to correct anyone. What about you? You seem so keen on prying into my personal affairs why not share your own?”

“Because sharing mine will most likely not convince you to share yours,” Sylphia answered. “Besides, The Calling of Exorcists is not a secret organization. Most know how one is trained and the qualifications necessary to become an exorcist.”

“True, but I've heard they've become rather particular as of late. What made you special enough to be chosen?” Askrin asked. He already knew why, he was just curious of she would tell him.

“Oh I don't know, probably my charming personality,” she replied coyly. 

“Doubt it,” Askrin snorted.

“It makes no difference why they chose me. I'm here now and I have a job to do. The sun will began setting any moment now, so I shall review my preparations to make sure everything is in order.” Askrin didn't question her as she walked off to check her circle, but he was curious why her becoming an exorcist was such a sore subject. He wouldn't pry into her affairs to sate his curiosity as she has persistently attempted to pry into his. Her business was not his business. She remained at a distance from him until sundown and a piercing scream rang through the air.

“That didn't sound like a normal ghost,” Askrin growled as he armed himself.

“Get out of here Askrin!” Sylphia shouted as she removed her salt made sword, the only weapon that can cut a spectre. The spectre forced open the door to the hut and Askrin saw it. A pale transparent form with a tattered dress and coal black eyes, it's hair wild. But while most spectres didn't have legs, this one was complete. It turned it's head to look at Askrin, it's gaze burning into his. He watched as it stepped into the circle and was only momentarily halted, the circle sparking at it's feet. The spectre opened it's mouth and screamed, dropping Askrin to his knees as he attempted to protect his head from splitting apart. 

“What is this?” Askrin demanded, but another of the spectre's cries halted all of his thoughts and sent him to the ground. The spectre reached down and shoved it's hands into his chest. A burning pain erupted in his chest, ceasing his breath and causing him to writhe where he lay. Sylphia struck the back of the spectre with her salt blade, causing it to shriek in pain. It ripped its hands out of Askrin's chest and he rolled over, coughing blood onto the ground.

“It appears the Lord was not as forthcoming as we originally expected,” Sylphia hissed. She swung her sword toward the spectre again, but this time it caught the blade. Its hand sizzled as the salt made contact and it shrieked. When it reached toward Sylphia with it's other hand it was repelled by the blessed studs. It screamed in frustration, Askrin's ears beginning to bleed. Sylphia winced slightly and pulled her blade away, stealing a glance toward Askrin. He would not survive if this battle continued. She pulled out her silver emblem of Dynestra and thrust it into the spectre's chest, speaking in the ancient tongue. The spectre cried out and became a mist, returning to to hut it originally resided in. Sylphia glanced at the emblem and found it tarnished, the likeness of Dynestra's profile barely visible with a deep gash through the center.

Sylphia tossed the emblem to the ground and rushed to Askrin's side, rolling him onto his back. “Askrin, can you hear me?” she asked as she examined him. His blood was curiously yellow in color and streaming from his mouth and ears. “Askrin, I need you to answer me.”

“This is why I don't do ghosts,” Askrin groaned.

“I've heard you have a mount. Where is it?”

“I allow him to roam. He appears when called,” Askrin mumbled. His eyelids began to flutter and Sylphia grabbed the sides of his face.

“You need to stay with me Askrin. I need you to call your mount. I can't carry you all the way to the manor by myself,” Sylphia urged. Askrin coughed and she allowed him to turn his head to spit more blood. He put two shaky fingers to his mouth and whistled, cringing as the sound reached his damaged ears. Sylphia looked around frantically as Askrin fell unconscious. A large amber colored stag came into view slowly, looking wary toward Sylphia.

“I won't hurt you, but I need you to carry him,” Sylphia explained. The stag seemed to understand and walked over, lying next to Askrin. Sylphia collected Askrin's weapons and stowed them before dragging Askrin and draping him over the stag's back. The stag stood carefully and followed Sylphia as she walked as quickly as she could back to Lord Avon's manor. Before reaching the manor she draped her cloak over him, checking to ensure he still drew breath. Upon reaching the manor two guards standing before the door drew their blades and aimed them toward Sylphia.

“State you business woman,” one of the guards sneered.

“I am exorcist Sylphia Givalt and I demand an audience with Lord Avon as well as a bed for my companion.” Sylphia glared as the two guards glanced at Askrin's direction and snickered.

“He's not welcome in the Lord's manor,” the other guard spat.

“You will allow us entry and I will speak with Lord Avon,” Sylphia growled. She turned as Askrin groaned and pushed himself off of the stag. “What are you doing?” she asked as she caught him before he fell.

“Don't fret so much for my well being. I'm sturdier than any human man,” Askrin claimed, though it was no secret he would not be able to remain on his feet if Sylphia wasn't bracing him.

“He seems to be fine. So be on your way,” the first guard said, raising his blade ever so slightly.

“I will not! If I have to force my way through your corpses so be it, but Lord Avon will hear me,” Sylphia shouted, her already thin patience snapping like a branch. The guards took a slight step back, their swords subtly wavering in their hands.

“What is all this noise about?” A man in night dress appeared in doorway, his expression displeased. He wasn't a very tall man, nor particularly bulky. His eyes were an uninteresting shade of blue, his brown hair just above his ears. 

“I am Sylphia Givalt from the Calling of Exorcists and we need to speak,” Sylphia stated forcefully.

“The Fae Touched is not welcome in my home,” Lord Avon replied as he glanced at Askrin.

“I don't mind having our conversation here, but I imagine you'd prefer your guards not overhear the origins of your banshee,” Sylphia pressed, malice dripping from her tone. The guards looked at each other in confusion and Avon's eyes grew just a touch wider.

“Follow me,” he hissed. The guards sheathed their blades as Sylphia assisted Askrin, following the Lord into his manor. The interior was as grand as the exterior, filled with fine rugs and hand carved furniture. He led the two into a sitting room, closing the door quickly behind them as they sat on the red velvet couch in the middle of the room. 

“How dare you requisition a task without all the information,” Sylphia seethed.

“How was I to know the spectre was a banshee? Honestly exorcist, you give my men and myself far too much credit,” Avon replied confidently, but his lies shone in his eyes. Sylphia nearly stood to strike him, but resisted.

“What did you do to her child?” Sylphia asked instead.

“What makes you think I did something to the spectre's child?” Avon countered, his arms crossed and his tone arrogant. 

“You made the request which means the banshee is targeting you. Banshees are formed after the death of a mother who lost her child in some way, whether it be war, bandits, or the child was simply taken. They remember who wronged them and swear vengeance. So I will ask once more; what did you do to her child?”

“You must be mistaken. I haven't done anything of the sort,” Avon answered.

“This conversation isn't going to go anywhere. It's clear what happened,” Askrin stated tiredly. Both eyes turned to him with curiosity. “The woman was the good Lord's mistress. There have been rumors floating around the territory that the Lady of the manor was having troubles conceiving an heir, so when his mistress produced what I can only assume was a male heir, the Lord saw the opportunity and took the child to claim.”

“The contract ensures your silence on this matter Fae Touched,” Avon said hurriedly.

“And I will honor that. I have no interest in political gossip. We will take care of your banshee as agreed-”

“Hold a moment,” Sylphia interrupted. “The original contract was for a spectre. While a banshee is related it is in fact not the same thing. It takes many more resources to send it to Dynestra's Garden so the price for it's removal has gone up and unlike Askrin, my silence has not been guaranteed.”

“That is absurd. The Fae Touched has already agreed to the contract as it stands,” Avon rebut. 

“True, but he can't complete it on his own; the banshee will kill him,” Sylphia began, noting Avon's subtle approval of the suggestion, “and I refuse to help with such a low payment. You may post the request to the Calling, but I will personally make sure no one in the order accepts the request.” Avon yammered as he attempted to find the words to express his outrage. “It's your choice Lord Avon; you can pay us the proper amount for the banshee, or I will let her kill you after she kills Askrin.” 

“Fine,” Avon ground out between clenched teeth. “But you will not be staying in my home. It's bad enough the Fae Touched is defiling my couch.” Askrin stood up, still not completely steady, but steady enough to stand on his own.

“That's all right. But I would request your son's assistance tomorrow,” Sylphia said as she stood.

“Absolutely out of the question,” Avon snapped.

“Well then, do you have a portrait of him? Anything with his likeness will do,” Sylphia pressed. “It is necessary to finish the job.”

“I will have it prepared for you tomorrow. The guards in front of the manor will give it to you. Now get out of my home,” Avon demanded. Sylphia nodded and the pair walked out the way they came. Askrin's pace was slower than normal, but he shrugged off any attempt Sylphia made to assist him.

“Do you always roll over like a mongrel for the Lords of the lands?” Sylphia asked, her tone sharp. Askrin sighed heavily. He wasn't in the mood for this course of conversation. He turned to see her stopped in the middle of the dark path, her arms crossed and her eyes full of fire.

“Only those whom I have an open contract with. It's professional courtesy,” Askrin answered.

“It's cowardice,” she shot back. 

“It's survival,” Askrin growled. “These Lords have begun coming to me personally for many of their jobs instead of instantly relying on the guild in town. Repeat clients are rare for those like me, so yes, if I have to string together pretty bullshit so they continue to hire me than so be it.”

“Have you no pride?”

“Pride is for fools and those with no fear of starving or freezing to death. I'm not interested in continuing this pointless attack of my character.” With that said, Askrin turned and continued toward The Woman's Touch. Sylphia trotted and stopped in front of Askrin, causing him to make an exasperated sound.

“These people don't respect you,” Sylphia said.

“I do not need their respect. Just their coin,” Askrin replied with an annoyed glare.

“So that's it then? You push all aside unless they are useful to you in some way?” 

“Of course. Is that not what everyone does? Would you have approached me if you didn't need me to protect you? If the contract wasn't in my name? Face it exorcist, in this regard, I'm no different than any other person.” He took a step to the side and walked past her. “You are welcome to stay somewhere else if my company has become distasteful to you.”

“You're infuriating, but you're a man so that is to be expected,” Sylphia replied coyly. Askrin rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched sightly. “You really should lean on me. Banshees squeeze the air out of their victims lungs until they burst and their screams liquefy the brain.”

“My body heals at a faster rate than most,” Askrin explained with a shrug. “Though I noticed you seemed less than fazed at the banshee's cries.”

“We are trained to resist it. It's still uncomfortable, but it's not as debilitating.” The two walked behind the tavern and Askrin immediately headed up the stairs toward the room set aside for him. It wasn't much; just a small uncomfortable bed, a small bedside table with a lantern, and a chair in the corner. There was only one window on the far wall that so filthy it barely let any light in. Askrin lit the lantern and began removing his weapons and leathers.

“You are welcome to the bed,” he said as he kicked off his boots.

“That won't be necessary. I have much to prepare for tomorrow night and you require rest far more than I. Even if you heal at an accelerated rate you were still badly injured in the encounter and I need you ready for a second bout.” Sylphia turned to face Askrin and held in a gasp. His undershirt did nothing to cover the intricate branding that covered much of his upper chest. It appeared to be words, but she was unfamiliar with the language.

“It's in Elvish,” Askrin answered, sensing her unasked question. “Most people can tell us apart from the crowd by our unusual eye colors, but in the unlikely event that doesn't tip them off, the brand usually does the trick.”

“May I?” Sylphia asked softly as she approached him. Askrin nodded and she reached out, gently tracing the letters with her fingertips. “How young were you when you were branded?”

“I was ten.” Sylphia's hand paused and she looked into Askrin's eyes. There was no torment or distress in his expression, but Sylphia couldn't stop the sympathy from showing in her own. Askrin turned away and sat on the bed. “Wake me when you feel the need to rest exorcist.”

“Why do you refuse to use my name?” Sylphia asked as Askrin lay across the bed.

“Because using one's name insinuates a level of familiarity and potential for future interactions. Things I tend to avoid with people who aren't paying me,” he replied as he closed his eyes. 

“Is the idea of companionship that distasteful to you?” 

“No, but I don't find a knife in my back particularly comfortable, so I avoid allowing others the opportunity.” Sylphia opened her mouth to argue, but she could tell he had already fallen asleep. She sighed and sat on the chair, beginning her preparations to battle the banshee. It did not escape her notice that despite disarming, Askrin still held a dagger in his hand while he slept. It was difficult for her not to be disappointed that he still did not trust her, but she also understood why he couldn't. He would never admit it, but she suspected he feared trusting others. Humanity was cruel, especially for those bold enough or unfortunate enough to be different. As she constructed her tools for the impending battle she silently prayed that Askrin would someday find someone he could open his heart to.

Askrin awoke just before dawn with a stiff chest and a headache to rival some torture he had previously endured. He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and placing his dagger on the side table. He rubbed his face with his hand, attempting to wipe the fatigue from his face and glanced over at the chair in the corner of the room. Sylphia slept quietly, her hands in her lap and her head resting against the wall. She had a collection of herbs in bottles in her lap as well, many of which he couldn't identify. He stood up and placed his hand gently on her shoulder, shaking slightly.

“You were suppose to wake me when you needed to rest,” Askrin said gruffly. Sylphia stirred and looked up at him.

“You were holding a dagger,” she replied lightly. Askrin rolled his eyes.

“I would not have struck you,” Askrin scoffed. She merely shrugged and stretched as she stood, her back cracking loudly. Askrin chuckled and she ignored him, slipping the bottles into her belt. “What do you suppose we do while we wait for nightfall?”

“I'm not sure. Do you have any playing cards or dice?” Sylphia asked.

“You mean to tell me on that insufferably overcrowded belt of yours you couldn't find a spot for a set of dice?” Askrin countered with a smirk. Sylphia glared at Askrin, but it was more playful than angry. Without looking she flipped open a pouch on her belt and pulled out five six-sided ivory dice.

“Don't underestimate the preparedness of an exorcist,” Sylphia teased. “I trust you know the rules of Poste?”

“I've played a game or two,” Askrin replied as he pulled out his own set. 

“With whom? Your stag?” Sylphia asked pulling the chair closer to the small table.

“Of course not. Abel cheats.” Askrin sat on the edge of the bed and moved the lantern to the floor.

“A cheating stag? That seems out of character,” Sylphia commented as she placed her dice on the table.

“Trust me, it is entirely in their character.” Sylphia chuckled as Askrin placed his dice on the table as well. “But enough about him; would you like to go first?”  
“I think I shall,” Sylphia answered and the game began.

The pair played for hours, Sylphia winning some, Askrin winning the rest. They paused for an hour or so after Sylphia headed down to the tavern proper to acquire breakfast. The small talk was pointless; mostly consisting of topics that always steered away from anything too personal. Until they started gambling. They each were allowed one question per win. The higher the score, the more personal the question that was allowed.

“So,” Askrin began smugly as he laid out his dice in the second highest scoring configuration in the game, “how did you end up in the Calling of Exorcists?” Sylphia stared at his dice for a moment before meeting his gaze with a frown.

“My mother sold me to them,” she answered. Askrin didn't say a word, but silently encouraged her to continue. “I'm a mystic. My mother and I found out when I was four while I was playing with a relic my village was given by a passing mage. As you can imagine my mother was thrilled to find out I was so valuable. So when the Calling came knocking she threw the door open.” Askrin nodded, familiar with mystics. Mystics weren't mages exactly, who can use magic freely, but individuals that can manipulate the magic contained in magical items.

“I didn't realize the Calling was the sort of organization to simply take children because their parents wanted the notoriety,” Askrin commented.

“They usually don't. I was twelve and my mother managed to convince me that it would be best for the both of us if I went with them. After I was older and understood what she did I stopped contacting her. Even now I have no desire to speak with her,” Sylphia explained. She picked up her dice and leaned forward slightly. “I'm going to have to think of a really good question to get back at you for that.”

“If you can manage to pull off a Full Poste, I promise to answer any question you can think of,” Askrin chuckled. Sylphia smirked and started the round. Sylphia's smirk grew larger as the rounds continued and she in fact ended with a Full Poste. Askrin glared at the table, unsure of how he jinxed his dice.

“All right Askrin, besides banshees, what's your greatest weakness?” Sylphia asked as she rested her chin on her clasped hands. Askrin met her eyes, his hard stare boring into her playful expression.

“This conversation doesn't leave this room,” Askrin warned.

“But of course. I have no desire to share your weakness with the world,” Sylphia replied. Askrin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Iron,” he answered simply. Sylphia looked at him curiously and he continued, “A cut from an iron blade will fester and poison me. Even extended skin contact can cause adverse effects. Too much iron poisoning can kill me instantly.”

“So that's why you wear leather bands around your neck and wrists?” Sylphia asked.

“As well as my ankles. Being arrested could put me under the soil before a trial is even held.”

“But everyone uses iron.”

“Hence why I tend to avoid fights with humans. The guild fight was a one time thing; an example if you will.” Sylphia leaned back in her chair in thought, but then simply shrugged. She glanced at the small window and put her dice back in their pouch.

“The sun will be setting soon. We should discuss how this encounter is going to play out,” Sylphia suggested. Askrin nodded and returned his own dice to their pouch. “The normal way of dispatching a spectre is to lock it's movements in a holy circle and strike it through the heart with a blessed dagger while saying the correct prayer. Banshees are similar in that regard, but they're too strong for a normal binding circle. Their desires are too strong. The best way is to distract it long enough for me to strike it. The dagger's position has to be precise or it won't work.”

“Which is why you still need me,” Askrin observed.

“Indeed. The portrait will only distract her for a moment or two, which is why we can only use it when I'm absolutely ready to send her on her way. I spent last night mixing different potions that will cause her to confuse you with her initial target,” Sylphia explained.

“Delightful,” Askrin drawled. Sylphia made a face in his direction and he simply shrugged.

“It will ensure she doesn't try to head to the Lord's manor while we're trying to finish. It won't work for long though so we have to work fast,” Sylphia continued.

“What do you need to do to prepare the dagger?” Askrin asked.

“I need to start the incantation. When the blade starts to glow that will be your signal to pull out the portrait and pray it looks enough like him that she'll recognize it.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Askrin said as he stood up. He walked over to his leathers and began putting them on. Sylphia waited a moment and then stood as well, walking toward the door. They walked out together and ignored the curious looks they were getting from the townspeople as they walked through the streets.

“Does it ever bother you, the way they all stare?” Sylphia asked quietly.

“I've gotten used to it,” Askrin replied simply. Sylphia sighed slightly as they walked back to the hut after aquiring the painting, the sun nearing the horizon. She grabbed a small bottle from her belt and removed two wet looking herb leaves. “What do you need those for?”

“These are for you.” Before he could inquire further she rolled one of the leaves into a ball and stuck it into Askrin's left ear. He cursed loudly and took a step back. “Leave it in there and stop being such an infant. The leaves will lessen the effect of the banshee's cries so you don't collapse immediately like last night.”

“You could have warned me,” Askrin hissed as he allowed her to place the other one.

“And miss my chance to see you jump like a child? Not a chance,” Sylphia chuckled. Askrin glared and tried to ignore the slimey feeling of the herbs in his ears. Sylphia's playful expression left her eyes as she held out her salt sword to Askrin. “Keep the banshee's attention on you until the dagger is ready and don't let her kill you.” Askrin nodded and took the sword.

Askrin tensed his muscles as a familiar scream rang through the air. He looked over at the hut and watched as Sylphia threw one of her bottles onto the ground, shattering it. A plume of orange smoke enveloped the banshee as it crossed the threshold of the hut, causing it to scream once again. He watched as it thrashed its head and then it met his eyes. The fury and sorrow caused him to pause briefly, but he still tightened his grip on the salt sword. He decided to forgo the shield on account it wouldn't help him in the slightest against this foe.

The banshee charged Askrin and screamed with her arms extended. Askrin winced and though he felt blood mix with the herb in his ears, it wasn't as painful as last night's encounter. He held up the sword in front of his chest as the banshee swipped its hand toward him, blocking its attempt to punch its fist to his lungs. It screamed in frustration and despite the help the herb granted, its scream still brought Askrin down to one knee. He slashed at it and scored its stomach. It cried out and Askrin dropped the sword, covering his ears with his hands.

“Hang on Askrin!” Sylphia screamed. The banshee turned to Sylphia and Askrin picked up the sword again. He thrust the sword through its back, trying to keep his hands steady.

“I thought I was who you were after,” Askrin taunted. Without physically turning around the banshee was now facing him and pushed its hand into his chest. Askrin gasped and used a nearby rock to push himself away from the banshee, its hand ripped from his chest and the sword from its torso. Askrin coughed and scrambled to his feet. “Any time now would be good!”

“I'm ready!” Sylphia shouted. Askrin dropped the sword and picked up the covered painting he had placed on the ground against a tree. He held it up in front of the banshee and ripped off the cloth covering the front, exposing the image. The banshee stopped suddenly, it's face contorting in a way Askrin didn't expect. A mix of pride, regret, and deep sorrow shone in her eyes and Askrin could almost see tears forming. He watched as Sylphia plunged her glowing dagger into the banshee's back and say some sort of prayer in the ancient tongue. The banshee burst in a bright white light and seemed to stream into the sky.

“Quite the show exorcist,” Askrin said with a smirk. He turned to the side and spit out some blood.

“It gets the job done,” Sylphia replied as she sheathed her blade. She retrieved her salt sword while Askrin dug out the herb leaves in his ears. “Let's head back to the room. I'm sure the good Lord would be less than pleased to be woken up two nights in a row.”

“That I have no doubt,” Askrin agreed. They walked side by side down the streets of the town in silence, Sylphia keeping pace with Askrin. They walked into the room and Sylphia lit the lantern as Askrin stripped his leathers.

“You look like death,” Sylphia commented. Askrin merely shrugged and Sylphia chuckled as she pulled out a hankerchief from her pocket. She walked over to him and wiped the blood from his chin and ears. 

“You're taking the bed this time,” Askrin said after she was satisfied with cleaning up his face.

“Happy to oblige.” She unfaceted her belt and placed it on the table, removing her studded leathers as well. Askrin walked over to the chair and moved it back to the corner, finding a comfortable enough position.

The next morning the pair put their leathers back on and collected Sylphia's horse before they headed toward the lord's manor. One of the guards outside stopped them from approaching the door and held out a sack of coins. “The Lord thanks you for your service and demands your discression,” the guard stated. Sylphia rolled her eyes and took the sack before weighing it with her hand slightly.

“No need to fret. We'll keep our end of the contract,” Sylphia answered. She tossed the sack into one of the saddle bags and Askrin raised one of his brows.

“Weren't we splitting the reward?” Askrin asked as he crossed his arms,

“Indeed we were, and as I recall you already collected your half at the tavern,” Sylphia replied with a smirk. Askrin chuckled as Sylphia mounted her horse.

“Fair enough. Be well Sylphia Givalt.”

“And you as well Askrin the Elathaen.” Sylphia smiled as she tapped her horse into motion, Askrin watching as she faded in the distance.


	3. The Necromancer's Choice

“Well Abel, it looks like another pleasant night in the human forests under a clear sky,” Askrin said, patting the side of the stag's neck. 

“Help! Monsters!” The scream came from a woman to the south and Askrin sighed. 

“Or not.” Askrin stood up and smothered his fire. “You know what to do.” He finished arming himself and headed toward the sound of the screaming. He spotted a woman with blood on her dress and stepped in front of her, causing her to collide into his chest. She screamed and threw herself backward, tripping on an exposed tree root. “Calm down and tell me what's going on.”

“My-my Mistress and my M-master. They were torn apart by monsters!” she wailed. 

“Where is their manor?” Askrin asked. The woman simply pointed as sobbed. Askrin looked up saw the outlines of a building. It wasn't so grand as a nobleman's manor, but it was nicer than a an average citizen. Must be the head of the town. He walked cautiously toward the manor, armed with his short sword and shield. He stepped into the clearing and found townspeople with pitchforks and hoes surrounding the manor.

“What do you think you're doing here Fae Touched?” one of the men hissed.

“Responding to a distressed woman screaming about monsters,” Askrin replied simply. “Has anyone been in the manor?”

“Not since Leona ran out of there,” a boy no more than fifteen years of age admitted.

“Shut it Finn! This doesn't concern the mongrel.,” the first man spat.

“So you've all just been standing out here waiting for...?” Askrin asked.

“Well, we figure if they were all ready dead since the other screaming stopped so we were going to kill whatever comes out,” Finn replied. The first man smacked Finn in the back of the head. Askrin rolled his eyes and headed toward the door.

“Where do you think you're going?” the man shouted.

“To deal with these monsters you're all waiting for,” Askrin replied. The front door was slightly ajar as Askrin pushed it open and cautiously stepped inside. Immediately he was overwhelmed with the smell of death and blood. He held his mouth closed as he felt bile rise in his throat and willed it back down. The floors were covered in dirt and blood, vases shattered and paintings knocked off the walls. He crept further inside, careful not to step on broken glass. He found the lady of the manor in the sitting room, her left arm ten feet from the rest of her and her stomach torn through, her guts strewn all around the room. Askrin turned as he heard the sound of someone vomiting just outside the room.

“What in Dysedra's fire could have done this?” Finn asked as he wiped his mouth. 

“It's unclear. It smells like it could have been ghouls, but they tend to eat the bodies they maim. This poor soul was just torn apart and left,” Askrin explained. “Why did you follow me in here?”

“I figured it was safest wherever you were,” Finn admitted. Askrin rolled his eyes and walked out of the room.

“Just stay behind me.” Finn nodded and gripped the ax in his hands tighter. Askrin followed the trail of blood into the dining hall where he found the lord of the manor. His head was placed on a serving platter in the middle of the table, his left arm and left leg thrown against the west wall. His torso was torn open in several spots, some of his internal organs and ribs tossed about the room. His remaining arm was missing and his leg was the only limb still attached to the rest of him. Like the lady, Askrin saw no evidence of bite marks on any parts of the body. “Well whatever it was it's gone now.”

“Where could it have gone? We were all standing outside,” Finn asked.

“You were all standing outside the front. Not the back or the servants' entrance,” Askrin corrected as he stowed his weapons. Askrin saw the boy's ears turn red as he walked out of the house. The crowd of men stood where Askrin had left them, their “weapons” raised as they saw Askrin.

“The monster is gone, whatever it was,” Finn announced as he followed Askrin out. Askrin didn't wait for a response from the crowd. He simply returned to the forest where he was originally going to make camp. He whistled for Abel and sat down, leaning against a tree. He kept his weapons on him, his dagger drawn and held in his lap. Abel returned and stayed at Askrin's side.

Askrin awoke the next morning when he heard footsteps approach him. Abel sprinted off as Askrin opened his eyes. He stood up and leaned against the tree, waiting for the two figures to arrive into view. He was somewhat surprised to see it was Finn and the man who had insulted him last night.

“The town head wishes to speak with you,” the man spat.

“I thought he was killed last night,” Askrin asked raising his brow.

“He was, but we have a line of succession here. The Lord of this land doesn't pay us much heed,” Finn explained.

“Must you tell this creature everything?” the man hissed.

“If the town head wants to talk to him, then he should be informed,” Finn shot back. The man seemed surprised for a moment and then turned back to Askrin.

“Follow us.” The man turned around and began walking back to town. Askrin followed in silence and together they walked into town. It wasn't very large; Askrin could see the southern entrance from the northern one he walked through. The two led him to a small building, probably used for town gatherings. A man sat behind a desk, his hands clasped upon it. He was dressed in finer materials than the normal rabble, but not by much. His hair was a chestnut brown, his eyes to match. The stubble on his chin and the circles under his eyes gave Askrin the impression his new title was given to him shortly after he left town during the night.

“You may leave Davis,” the town head commanded, his tone firm. Davis and Finn nodded slightly and walked out, shutting the door behind them. “Forgive his boorishness. My name is Sethe. I hear you had the unfortunate luck to stumble upon the murder of the previous town head.”

“Stumble isn't quite the word I would use,” Askrin answered.

“Of course. According to our dear, brave Finn mentioned you might have an idea of what caused this tragedy?” Sethe asked.

“I mentioned what it wasn't, not what it was,” Askrin replied.

“Regardless, I would like to know what it was. And I'm willing to pay.” Askrin approached the desk and noticed an inked piece of paper under his hands.

“What's the price?” Askrin inquired.

“Unfortunately we are not a particularly prosperous town so I can offer three hundred scils and twenty sapphires,” Sethe explained. Askrin sighed and crossed his arms. The coin was what one would expect for finding a lost cat, but on the other hand the jewels can be used in countries that denounced scils as a form of currency. 

“I suppose I could do a little digging into what killed the town head.” Sethe smiled and pushed the contract closer to the edge of the desk. Askrin picked up the contract, noting how quickly Sethe pulled his hands off the table, and read through it. It stated that the scils would be paid up front and the sapphires paid after the threat has been identified and neutralized. He rolled the parchment up and placed it in his pocket along with the small sack of coin Sethe placed on the desk.

“No one has touched the town head's manor and you are welcome to search it top to bottom. I leave the rest to you Fae Touched.” Askrin nodded and walked out to discover Finn leaning against the side of the building.

“What are you waiting for boy?” Askrin asked as he continued walking. Finn followed after, his hands in his trouser pockets.

“I want to help,” he replied simply.

“I doubt your father would approve,” Askrin stated. Finn stopped for a moment before sprinting slightly to catch up and keep pace with Askrin.

“How did you know he was my father?” Finn asked sheepishly.

“You look just like him. Same eyes. Same chin,” Askrin answered. “You may accompany me to the manor, but that is where your involvement ends.”

“Fair enough.” Askrin walked back into the manor, grimacing at the stench. Death and decay doesn't get better with time. He ignored his sense of smell and proceeded inside, heading straight to the dining hall. He focused on the footprints and the blood trails instead of the body. He followed the trail to the kitchen and then down into the servants' quarters. The stench in the sleeping quarters was enough to make even Askrin gag and Finn vomited just outside the room.

“If you keep vomiting I'm going to send you out of here,” Askrin hissed. He wasn't going to vomit himself, but he didn't enjoy listening to it.

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled. Askrin shook his head slightly and found three bodies on three of the five cots. They were peculiar to say the least. All three were covered in dirt and blood and they were all in different stages of decay. He examined one of them, finding a small circular mark on it's forehead. Despite the overwhelming smell of death, he could also smell magic on this body.

“Do you have a mage in this town?” Askrin asked as he stood.

“Of course not. Do you think this town would be so poor if it did?” Finn retorted.

“Any mystics?” 

“Not that I know and in a town this small everyone knows everyone else.” Askrin walked out of the room, Finn following closely.

“Where do you bury your dead?” Askrin asked after they reached the outside.

“Uh, just west of the town,” Finn answered.

“Your involvement in this is done,” Askrin stated. Finn opened his mouth to complain, but Askrin shut him down before he could say anything, “I will not have your blood on my hands. You don't even have a weapon to protect yourself. Go home before your father discovers where you are.” Askrin continued walking and Finn didn't follow. He found the small plot of land with the graves quickly and found a girl wearing men's clothes. She had gloves on and a shovel in her hands, her dirty blonde hair tucked in a hat. She turned to look at Askrin, her near black eyes cautious and curious.

“Who are you?” she asked in a small voice. Askrin snorted. Her voice was small, but her presence wasn't.

“Just a man. Are you digging graves for the town head and his wife?” Askrin asked causually.

“Of course. My father usually does it, but he's at home with an illness,” she replied as she continued digging. Askrin looked around the graves and noticed three of them had loose dirt on the top, as if they had been recently filled in.

“The town head is buried with the rest of the town's dead?” Askrin asked. The girl sighed and stopped digging, resting her chin on the handle of the shovel.

“They're no different than us. All they have is a title, a big house, and favor with the Lord of the land. Nothing more. Why are you so curious traveler? Surely there are more intriguing subjects to talk about.”

“That's true. Maybe you can tell me why you raised the dead to kill them?” Askrin asked. The girl stiffened and her eyes shot side to side. “Don't bother; I'm faster than you are. My sword with separate your head from your shoulders before you could even begin to cast.”

“Let's not talk here then,” she hissed. Askrin held out his arm in a gesture telling her to lead the way. She pulled the shovel out of the ground and walked back into town, stepping into the first house. It was a simple abode with a second room that held a bed and no door. The main space had small shelves with simple dishware and a small fireplace. The table in the center was poorly build and was accompanied by only one chair.

“Safe to say your father is a figment of your imagination,” Askrin observed. 

“Just my luck a Fae Touched is in town the same night I exact my revenge,” the girl spat, putting the shovel in the corner. “And my father did exist. He died three years ago.”

“And he never figured out that you were a mage?”

“Would I still be here if he did?” she asked. Askrin crossed his arms and stared at her. “No, he never found out. The town head did though when he saw me in the forest practicing my grave magic. I begged him not to tell. He told me he wouldn't if I 'serviced' him. I was ten years old. Our arrangement continued for eight years until he appeared to become bored with me. So I did away with him before he could contact the King.”

“Quite the story. Are you telling me all this in hopes I will spare you and just walked away?” Askrin asked, sounding bored.

“Would it matter if I said it was?” she shot back.

“Not really. I am curious why you killed the lady though.”

“Corpses can't follow that many instructions. Kill the town head and don't let anyone stop you was about as far as I could get,” she answered with her arms crossed.

“I see. Clever, putting the corpses in the servants' beds. The ones in charge of cleaning that mess up probably wouldn't look too closely at the them and just assume they were victims of the same tragedy.”

“So what are you going to do to me?” the girl asked, her voice having a slight tremble.

“That is a good question. You see, I don't get the rest of my payment until the threat in neutralized. From what I see you have no intention of continuing a violent rampage through the village, so I could simply walk away and tell the town head the job is done. That being said, he might not believe me unless I bring him proof. So I can either bring him all of you or just your head,” Askrin explained. “Of course, you may be executed either way for performing forbidden magic.” Much to Askrin's surprise, the girl began to laugh.

“Forbidden magic? Do you honestly believe there is such a thing?” she asked in between fits of laughter. Askrin simply frowned. “Sure, The Ring of Mages may state there are magics that are 'forbidden' to make none magic using people feel safe, but that's a load of horse shit. All magic is embraced and practiced, because the more magic is used, the more they can study it. Understand it. Maybe even unlock its secrets. In practice, dark magic is no more forbidden than light magic. I won't be executed for this. I'll be praised.”

“Regardless would you like to see the town head with or without the rest of your body?” Askrin asked.

“I would like to keep my head attached to the rest of my body if it's all the same to you,” she replied. Askrin grabbed the girl's arm and began pulling her out of the house.

“You even think about using your magic and my offer to deliver you in one piece leaves the table,” Askrin hissed. 

“But of course Fae Touched,” she spat back. Askrin kicked the door opened and saw Finn jump out of the way. 

“What the fuck are you doing here kid?” Askrin growled angrily. Finn's eyes grew wide and he stepped back.

“Nataline?” he whispered. The girl smiled sadly at Finn and reached out slightly, putting her hand on the boy's cheek.

“Thank you Finn,” she murmured. Askrin yanked her away, but didn't smell the rush of magic before it was too late. Talons sunk into his back and chest around his shoulders, ripping him from Nataline and the ground. He looked up and saw a partially decomposed hippogryph. The monster dropped Askrin from twenty feet in the air, a guttural cry coming from it's beak. He landed on his side and gasped, feeling several of his ribs break. The beast landed and Nataline crawled onto it's back before taking off. “Sorry Fae Touched, but I won't go back to being a plaything.” The hippogryph grabbed Finn in its talons and flew out of sight.

“Finn!” Davis cried out. By no the entire town had come out of their homes to witness what all the commotion was about. Davis spotted Askrin on the ground and pulled him up by his leathers, ignoring Askrin's grunts of pain. “This is all your fault!”

“Davis! Enough,” Sethe commanded. Davis let go of Askrin and stepped back, the fury never leaving his eyes. “My, my. This is certainly unfortunate. We seem to have a local mage in our midst and she seems to have fled northwest.”

“And what do you want me to do about it? I found the cause of the previous town head's death,” Askrin demanded, putting his hand on his side to assess just how many ribs broke from his fall.

“I believe the terms of the contract also including neutralizing the threat. However, the situation has changed. I would prefer the mage returned here alive. However if you only bring back her head you will still be paid,” Sethe replied.

“The contract was for a monster, not a damn necromancer!” Askrin shouted in frustration.

“The contract is for a 'threat'. Unfortunately the threat happens to be the necromancer, so if you want your jewels the necromancer needs to be dealt with.” Askrin cursed and threw off his leathers. He pulled a cloth bandage out his pack and bound the wounds around his shoulders. He replaced his leathers and pulled his weapons out. His sword arm wasn't as strong with his broken ribs, but it was clear the town wasn't going to offer any help. They were counting on this mage to bring prosperity to the town. Once The Ring found out a mage was born here they will send representatives and coin to research the town and its people for sources of magic.

Askrin tracked the hippogryph easier than he originally expected. It made sense a decaying corpse would have pieces of its body fall off during flight. He arrived at a dense thicket and had to stow his shield in order the maneuver through the trees. The closer he got to the center, the stronger the scent of magic. He stopped just shy of the clearing and saw Finn laying on a makeshift table, a magic circle carved into the ground. Nataline stood next to the table, her stomach exposed and a number encircled by the same magic symbol just above her belly button.

“I know you're there Fae Touched,” Nataline said. “The ritual is complete so it would be pointless to kill me now.”

“What ritual?” Askrin asked, stepping into the clearing.

“You see this number?” Nataline countered, placing her hands around the number on her stomach. “This is a grave mage's most guarded secret. It dictates how many years our life force has left. We use our own lives to conduct our magic. We can take years from others through this ritual, but the more we take the more it costs to do our magic. Probably has something to do with another's life force being not as strong as our own.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Askrin asked.

“Because I want you to understand how many innocent people will die if I get sent to The Ring. They will make me use my magic over and over and over again until any of the years left are no longer my own,” Nataline explained. “Take Finn back to town. He'll survive, I didn't take many years from him. Let me go.”

“It doesn't matter if I let you go or not. The Ring will track you down when they get here.”

“My hippogryph can take me far.”

“Your hippogryph is controlled by magic. Magic The Ring can track. They will find you and they will force you to go with them. It will be easier for you if you just go with them willingly.” Nataline bit her lower lip and covered herself back up.

“I don't want to die,” Nataline murmured. 

“Then go with The Ring. It's not an ideal life, but you will get to live,” Askrin said

“And what life would it be? A life of servitude? Of using my magic until all that's left is a husk and a womb? That is the life of a work horse, not a person!” Nataline shouted. She threw her hat on the ground, allowing her hair to drape her shoulders.

“You still only have two options. Die here or go back. Running is no longer an option anymore. Not when The Ring knows of your existence, which I'm sure they do. Your new town head seems to act quickly. Make your choice or I will make it for you.” Askrin's expression didn't change as he saw tears well in the girl's eyes, but his sword did lower slightly.  
“Those options are terrible,” she whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“Most are. But if you choose to come back to the town you will have another chance to make another choice.” Askrin sheathed his blade as Nataline fell to her knees. He walked over, ignoring the increasing pain from his chest, and put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Your life will only be as terrible as you let it.”  
“Is that what you tell yourself everyday?” Nataline asked, allowing Askrin to pull her to her feet.

“One of my many mantras. Come, we must get back to town,” Askrin said as gently as he could muster. He grabbed Finn with his good arm and heaved him over his shoulder, wincing as he did. He had Nataline lead the way, keeping a close eye on her in case she tried to run. 

Once they reached town he set Finn down on the ground, ignoring all the slurs Davis shot his way. Nataline was taken by some of the women to a different building and Sethe threw a small pouch toward Askrin. He caught it without a word and opened it, examining his payment.

“It's all there, don't worry. Thank you for bringing Nataline back in one piece. You'll always have a place here,” Sethe said, a small smile on his face.

“I doubt it. Mages and my kind don't mix very well,” Askrin replied simply.

“Regardless.” The invitation was left in the air as Askrin made his way back to the northern forest, hoping the next job he committed to was one he was more suited for.

**Author's Note:**

> If I end up writing more, it will be more episodic in nature than a chronological chain of events. It's just something fun for me to write.


End file.
